J.B. Spins

Jazz, film, and improvised culture.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Stalingrad: The Russians Still Win (This Time in 3D)

Those
who question Russia’s commitment to sustainability should at least give them
credit for recycling their titles. In 1989, Fedor Bondarchuk received one of
his earliest acting credits in Yuri Ozerov’s Stalingrad. Twenty-some years later, the thesp-turned-director has
helmed Russia’s first film produced entirely in 3D IMAX—and it happens to have
the same title. It essentially ends the same way too, but some weird editorial
choices distinguish Bondarchuk’s Stalingrad
(trailer
here), Russia’s
reining box office record holder, which opens today in New York.

In
large measure, Bondarchuk’s Stalingrad is
inspired by the heroic exploits of Pavlov’s House, the strategically located
apartment complex doggedly defended by Sergeant Pavlov and his men. In this
case, it is Captain Gromov and his comrades who have dug into a reinforced
tenement right across from pretty much the entire German army. While most
civilians have evacuated, the elfin Katia has defiantly remained, to stoke
jealousy amongst Pavlov’s men and to give them something personal to fight for.

A
few steps away, Captain Peter Kahn is tasked with crushing all pockets of
Russian resistance. However, National Socialist war atrocities have dampened the
Prussian elitist’s morale. He is more concerned with Masha, another Russian
women stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the tradition of bodice
rippers, he initially “ravishes” her, but then starts to fall in love with the
Russian beauty. She also seems to warm to him as a protector, but fears for the
consequences if and when the Soviets expel the Germans.

Perhaps
the weirdest element of Bondarchuk’s film is the framing device, in which a Russian
emergency responder tells a group of Germans trapped in the rubble of the Tōhoku
earthquake how his mother met his five fathers during the siege of Stalingrad,
because nothing is more reassuring than episodes from the bloodiest battle in
human history. Dude, next time, don’t help. Frankly, the way the film exploits
Japan’s 3-11 tragedy would be deeply offensive, if it were not so ludicrous. Seriously,
Russian rescue workers digging out Germans in Sendai?

On
the plus side, Bondarchuk makes stuff blow-up really well. Obviously, he did
not intend to waste his blank check in the IMAX store. He devises all sorts of dramatic perspectives
on the action, while vividly capturing a sense of the claustrophobic nature of
close quarters fighting. He is also either surprisingly fair to the Germans or
simply lets Thomas Kretschmann run circles around the rest of the cast as the
ethically nuanced Kahn.

Frankly,
he represents the film’s most believably complicated character and develops
some powerfully ambiguous chemistry with Yanina Studilina’s Masha. In contrast,
Gromov and the other four fathers are all either colorless Reds or borderline
war criminals. Either way, they make little lasting impression. It almost makes
a viewer wonder if Bondarchuk set out to be deliberately subversive.

It seems unfathomable that a Russian WWII epic
can make audiences sympathize with the Germans. Yet, if you close your eyes and
think of Stalingrad a few days after
taking it all in, it will be Krestchmann and Studlina whom the mind’s eye will
recall. Nevertheless, Russia duly submitted Stalingrad
as its official foreign language Oscar contender. Perhaps it is still
preferably in Russia to declare a dubious victory than admit an obvious defeat.
Sort of recommended in a confused way for those who appreciate battlefield
spectacle, Stalingrad opens nationally
today (2/28) including in New York at the AMC Empire and Lincoln Square theaters.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

HairBrained: Beat Harvard

Haven’t
we all been waiting for the definitive College Bowl movie? They call it
Collegiate Mastermind here, but it is the same idea. However, viewers should be
prepared to grade on a very generous curve when Billy Kent’s HairBrained (trailer here) opens tomorrow
in New York.

Fourteen
year-old Eli Pettifog might be a child prodigy, but will have to settle for
Whitman College, a small east coast liberal arts school of modest reputation,
instead of his dream school: Harvard. Perhaps not unreasonably, he finds himself
rooming with Leo Searly, a forty-something (at least) compulsive gambler amidst
a mid life crisis. Of course, this only heightens his sense of social
isolation. Naturally, the dumbest of the jocks picks on him mercilessly,
because his Yahoo Serious hair is simply a magnet for bullying.

Yet,
Pettifog starts to make a place for himself when he takes over Whitman’s
Collegiate Mastermind team. Powered by Pettifog’s brain, they start crushing
their Ivy League competition. Soon the Whitman Warring Hares attract mighty
Harvard’s attention—in a bad way.

HairBrained might not be the
most original film, but the villains are from Harvard, so it has that going for
it. Pettifog’s hair and his Dickensian name are about the only things in the
film that are not lightweight. Still, Julia Garner is quite winning as Shauna,
the townie prodigy, whom Pettifog takes a shine to. Greta Lee (recognizable to
hipsters from her work on Girls) has
some moments as well as Pettifog’s teammate, Gertrude. It is also hard to fault
Brendan Fraser, who labors like a rented mule trying to make man-child Searly
likable.

The
problem is Pettifog is just sort of boring, which is obviously a big one
considering how much of him there is in HairBrained.
Frankly, Real Genius covered similar
territory in the 80’s, but with considerably more wit and edge. Nonetheless, there is a real tonal issue with
respects to Pettifog’s mom (a criminally wasted Parker Posey), who is presented
within the film as a lovably boozy trollop, but in real life would probably
warrant a social services investigation.

There is not much to say after watching HairBrained, except “eh.” To his credit,
Kent keeps it moving along at a reasonably healthy pace. It is mostly harmless
and professional, but not a lot more. Earning a shrug more than anything else, HairBrained opens tomorrow (2/28) in New
York at the Quad Cinema.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Venus Talk: Naughty Coffee Klatching

Some
critics will reflexively compare this Korean relationship drama to that old HBO
show that ended its run a decade ago. However, the three stars of this import
were secure enough to allow a cameo appearance from BoA, the young and
glamorous “Queen of Korean Pop.” In fact, the forty-something cast looks
considerably younger than their long-faced American forerunners. They will
still inevitably mismanage their private lives in Kwon Chil-in’s Venus Talk (trailer here), which opens in
select theaters this Friday.

Frankly,
this trio of friends is not so interested in talking, but they have to do
something when they meet for brunch at Hae-young’s coffee shop. She is a single
mother with a grown daughter she can’t get out of the house and the best
boyfriend of the bunch. Sung-jae is mature, sensitive, and handy around the
house, but harbors been-there-done-that feelings about marriage. Mi-yeon
appears to be happily married, but her demands will put a strain on her
relationship with her Viagra-bootlegging husband, Jae-ho. Shin-hye is more
interested in her work as a television producer than any sort of romance, but a
drunken fling with Hyun-seung, a much younger colleague complicates her carefully
calibrated career.

Into
these lives great turmoil will fall, but they always stick together—after a bit
of judgmental cattiness. Sure, you probably suspect where Kwon and screenwriter
Lee Soo-a are headed and have a pretty good idea how they will get there, but
it must be said Venus is surprisingly
fair to the guys. Frankly, the women are at least as responsible for their
relationship angst and their partners, if not more so. This is particularly
true in the case of Mi-yeon and the woefully cringey Jae-ho.

While
never explicit, Venus is rather
saucy, especially by the standards of Korean cinema. Not for no reason, most of
the more suggestive scenes feature the photogenic Uhm Jung-hwa and Lee Jae-yoon
as the impressively fit Shin-hye and Hyun-seung, respectively. They have okay
chemistry together and Uhm nicely mixes attitude and professionalism in her
straight forward dramatic scenes.

Yet,
Cho Min-su once again steels the picture in a complete change of pace from her
soul-shattering turn in Kim Ki-duk’s bracing Pieta. As Hae-young, she brings more dignity, forgiveness, and
general humanity to Venus than you
would ever expect to find in a cougar-ish chick flick. In contrast, Moon So-ri
is stuck with the least sympathetic and most over-the-top of the lot, but she
fully commits to the voracious Mi-yeon nonetheless.

There
have been films like Venus before and
there will be plenty more like it to come. Even so, it is a credit to Kwon,
Uhm, and Cho how smooth it goes down, especially for those who do not have a
strong affinity for the genre. It is well executed, but never pushes the
envelope of women-centric relationship dramas. Mostly recommended as a women’s-night-out
movie, it opens this Friday (2/28) in Honolulu at the Consolidated Pearlridge
and in Vancouver at the Cineplex Silvercity.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Jazz and the Philharmonic: Real Jazz on PBS

For
many ardent listeners, the words “jazz” and “philharmonic” have heavy
significance when used in close proximity. It automatically summons images of
the all-star concerts and recording sessions the legendary Norman Granz
produced in concert halls around the country. This is not a Granz production.
The philharmonic reference is more in keeping with the classical tradition.
However, the jazz is still for real in Jazz
and the Philharmonic (promo
here), a
concert featuring alumni of the National YoungArts Foundation, the Henry
Mancini Institute Orchestra, and some of the top names in jazz, which airs on
most PBS stations this Friday (yes, real honest-to-gosh jazz on PBS).

Of
course, jazz and classical crossover fusions are nothing new. That is exactly what
Third Stream Jazz was all about. While many of the program selections feature
jazz soloists playing with the Mancini Orchestra (whose namesake would surely
have approved of the program, especially the theme from Charade), there are several straight-up solo, duo, or trio jazz
performances, which is obviously not a bad thing.

In
fact, it is a very good thing when Chick Corea, Dave Grusin, and Bobby McFerrin
open the concert with an elegant but persistently swinging “Autumn Leaves” for
voice and two pianos. Corea fans really get their money’s worth throughout the
concert, with the NEA Jazz Master performing in a variety of settings, mostly
notably joining the Mancini Orchestra on his “Spanish Suite,” a composition
perfectly suited to the evening. His duet with McFerrin, “Armando’s Rhumba” is
not as distinctive, but they clearly enjoy making music together, which is part
of the fun of a show like this.

In
addition to “Spanish Suite,”Terence Blanchard also has feature spots
on “Fugue in C Minor” and “Solfeggietto,” probably the two most overtly
swinging-the-classics numbers of the evening. However, he is probably best
showcased fronting the orchestra for a rendition of “Charade,” a wonderfully
lush arrangement that brings to mind his classic Jazz in Film CD. Yet, perhaps the most effective jazz and classical
dialogue comes when Elizabeth Joy Roe and Shelly Berg tackle “The Man I Love”
as a lyrical but muscular piano duet, from the classical and jazz sides,
respectively.

Nevertheless,
the surprise peak of the concert integrates the sounds of deep roots Americana
as well as jazz and classical when violinist Mark O’Connor joins pianist Dave
Grusin on a sensitive and soulful version of “Simple Gifts,” the Shaker
standard subsequently incorporated into Copeland’s Appalachian Spring. Rather fittingly, Grusin’s “Mountain Dance”
follows. Purists might dismiss it as too “smooth,” but man, is it ever a pretty
melody, sounding almost tailor made for the full orchestral treatment. It also
provides a nice launching pad for O’Connor. In fact, Grusin takes two rather
impressive solos as well: one fleet and swinging and the second surprisingly
adventurous—so take that jazz snobs.

Aside from a weird choice for a closer (Also sprach Zarathustra from 2001, really?), Jazz and the Philharmonic is an extremely welcome dose of jazz on
primetime PBS. It ranges from pleasantly entertaining to downright revelatory.
It should motivate viewer-listeners to keep an eye out for a talented newcomer
like Roe and catch up with the work of accomplished veterans like O’Connor and
Blanchard. Naturally, it always sounds great from a technical perspective, thanks
to the late, great engineer Phil Ramone, in whose memory it is dedicated. Highly
recommended, Jazz and the Philharmonic airs
on hip PBS outlets this Friday night (2/28).

Odd Thomas: Koontz’s Spooky Short Order Cook Finally Makes it to the Big Screen

This
Dean Koontz protagonist is not shy when it comes to voice-over narration, but
never exactly breaks the fourth wall, per se. He is probably entitled to his
own eccentric commentary, considering he has the ability to see ghosts and
bodachs, supernatural parasites that feed on fear and suffering. However, his
greatest nemesis might be lawyers, given the legal wrangling that long delayed
the release of Stephen Sommers’ Odd
Thomas (trailer
here), which
finally opens in New York this Friday.

Thomas
comes from crazy stock and therefore understands the need to keep his dubious
gift secret. Only a handful of people know of his power, including Pico Mundo’s
chief of police Wyatt Porter, who appreciates the sort of inside information
Thomas can provide. His loyal girlfriend Stormy Llewellyn is also in on the
truth and a few of their friends vaguely suspect he has the Shine.

Normally,
he chases down workaday serial killers before they can murder again, like his
former classmate Harlo Landerson from the film’s prologue. However, the
alarming number of bodachs converging on Pico Mundo portends a tragedy of
grander scale. They seem particularly
interested in “Fungus Bob” Robertson, so dubbed by Thomas and Llewellyn because
of his unfortunate grooming habits. Robertson also has an unhealthy interest in
Satanism and a couple of mystery friends. Thomas will try to sleuth out
Robertson’s plans without alerting the bodachs to his uncanny powers of
perception, because they do not take kindly to folks like Thomas.

Frankly,
the first half of Odd Thomas feels
like a ghost-hunting TV show from the 1980’s, with its quaint small town
setting and Thomas’s wholesome courtship of Llewellyn. However, as the stakes
and tension start to rise, the film becomes considerably darker. Sommers (best known for The Mummy and G.I. Joe franchises)
pulls off some third act sleight-of-hand surprisingly adroitly and the manner
in which earthly cults intersect with paranormal malevolence is somewhat intriguing.

Still,
Anton Yelchin and Addison Timlin are almost too cute and freshly
scrubbed-looking as Thomas and Llewellyn. Frankly, Sarah Michelle Gellar’s Buffy was much edgier, notwithstanding
the characters’ dark backstories in the Koontz source novel. Still, Odd
Thomas has the distinction of featuring Willem Dafoe as an unqualified good
guy, without even the hint of moral compromise, perhaps for the first time
since Triumph of the Spirit. He is
actually not bad plodding along with all due decency as Chief Porter.

Arguably,
the biggest issue for Odd Thomas is
the lack of a strong villain. Broadway actor Shuler Hensley is game enough as
Robertson, but the character is played more for yucks than scares. Likewise,
the bodach effects are serviceable enough, but not especially memorable.

When watching Odd Thomas one can see how it probably works so much better as a
novel. There is some pop at the end that presumably has even more kick on the
page. Yet, the film as a whole has the feel of an extended pilot that it never
shakes off. Better than you might
expect, but still better suited to the small screen, Odd Thomas finally opens this Friday (2/28) in New York.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Fatal Assistance: NGOs Gone Wild

When
the 3/11 earthquake and tsunami hit Japan, many who of us worried our close
Japanese friends and allies were not getting the same high level attention in
Washington and international diplomatic circles as the 2010 earthquake that
rocked Haiti. Ironically, Japan might be more fortunate in that respect.
Leftist filmmaker Raoul Peck argues international aid efforts in Haiti have largely
done more harm than good in Fatal
Assistance (trailer
here), which
opens this Friday in New York.

With
mostly good intentions, the world rushed to aid quake-devastated Haiti. The
Interim Haiti Reconstruction Commission (IHRC) was instituted with Bill Clinton
and Haitian PM Jean-Max Bellerive installed as co-chairs. Right from the start,
it acted like any other hydra-headed multi-national quasi governmental body.

Peck
irrefutably establishes some of the charges in his wide ranging indictment.
Without question, the various competing NGOs woefully underperformed in the
debris removal process. They were so focused on grand rebuilding schemes, they
had neither the expertise nor the donor interest in doing the very work
necessary to make the rebuilding stage possible. It is also pretty hard to defend the
flood-prone temporary housing constructed (at not inconsiderable cost) in the temporary
camps that became permanent new slums. Also, Peck gives rather short shrift to the
effect of the UN’s pointless arms embargo, which left Bellerive unable to arm
his new police recruits.

However,
Peck does not connect the international conspiracy dots nearly as well as he
thinks he does. Often, he shows various IHRC proceedings as if they were “ah-hah”
moments, but only he can see the smoking gun. In fact, he does his best to
ignore the widespread corruption that made the NGO sector legitimately leery of
the Haitian government. It might be disappointing that Peck lets Haitian
politicians off the hook so easy, but it is understandable, considering he
happens to be one himself, having served as Minister of Culture under PM Rosny
Smarth’s short-lived administration.

As
much as Peck wants to focus on the international relief “industry,” questions
regarding domestic corruption are highly pertinent. Recently, the Filipino expat
community largely shunned government agencies in favor of organizations like
the International Red Cross precisely because of similar concerns. Still, it is hard to have much confidence in
the IHRC, the OAS or any of the rest of the do-gooding alphabet soup based on
the results Peck documents.

In
fact, if anyone emerges as Fatal’s
genuine bad guy, it is Bill Clinton, whom Peck explicitly accuses of using the
tragedy as a disgusting ego-stroke. According
to Peck and frustrated aid workers, the Hot Springs native is far more
concerned with preening at ribbon cutting ceremonies than actually resolving
the IHRC’s internal divisions or doing any sort of work in general.

Peck will convince just about every viewer of
his general thesis: international aid is often misallocated and
counter-productive. However, his assorted sub-points do not always convince.
Frankly, Fatal just as easily
supports the sort of Public Choice Theory analysis developed by the late Nobel Lauriat James Buchanan, who argued government (and presumably extra-governmental
NGO) bureaucrats are just as influenced by self-interest as anyone operating in
the private sector. Fatal will
engender pity for Haiti and contempt for Clinton, but Landon Van Soest’s Good Fortuneremains a more thoughtful exploration
of unintended consequences of first to third world aid programs. Sometimes
quite revealing, but rather scattershot in its insight, Fatal Assistance is narrowly recommended for those interested in
the politics of disaster relief when it opens this Friday (2/28) at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center.

New Nordic Cinema: It’s Only Make Believe

In
Norway, the criminal justice system is naturally all about rehabilitation.
Unfortunately, underworld types are not so likely to forgive and forget. Indeed,
they are rather inclined hold a grudge as one single mother trying to go
straight learns in director-screenwriter-cinematographer-editor-production
designer-whatever-else-needed-to-be-done Arild Østen Ommundsen’s It’s Only Make Believe (trailer here), which screens
this week as part of the New Nordic Cinema series at Scandinavia House.

When
Jenny tells her scruffy boyfriend Frank she is pregnant, he responds with a not
completely freaked out proposal, complete with a nicked engagement ring. It is
a nice moment, but it will not last. The two mildly delinquent lovers continue
on their mission to retrieve a bag of drugs from a greenhouse for a dodgy pal. Unfortunately,
it turns out to be a much heavier situation than he led them to believe. Guns
will be discharged, leading to at least one corpse and a very pregnant Jenny serving
a ten year prison sentence.

Despite
her incarceration, Jenny still comes to know her daughter Merete, a
ridiculously angelic little girl, who never seems to resent her mother’s
criminal history. However, when the model prisoner is finally released, Merete’s
foster mother will not just automatically hand her over. She will have to
demonstrate stability and a healthy living environment, which her
plumbing-challenged family home is definitely not. The drug-dealing thugs
demanding Jenny pay off her “debt” from the misadventure in the greenhouse will
not help either.

There
are moments of jarring violence in Make
Believe, as well as pastoral time-lapse interludes, accompanied by ever so
sappy soft alt rock tunes. Obviously, the
violence is more palatable. While it has its goey moments, the film is not likely
to be confused with a fairy tale, as the English title vaguely implies. Ommundsen
never turns away from man’s predatory nature, suggesting it is nearly
impossible for a straying waif like Jenny to break out of her vicious cycle.
The thug who adopts the name “Eddie Vedder” is also a nice touch.

Silje
Salomonsen is acutely compelling as Jenny, even when her character makes
forehead-slappingly bad decisions. She certainly expresses her motherly
instincts, which is absolutely essential. Make
Believe also benefits from a number of understated but keenly sensitive
supporting turns, especially including Tomas Alf Larsen as Gary, her formerly
chubby high school chum, who still carries a torch for her. The look and
demeanor of Egil Birkeland’s “Vedder” is quite something, as well.

So yes, it is a bummer to be an ex-con, even in
Norway. Make Believe covers some
familiar territory, but Ommundsen and Salomonsen still steadily pull us into
this very human drama. Recommended for those with a taste for tragic
naturalism, It’s Only Make Believe screens
in New York at Scandinavia House this Wednesday (2/26) and Friday (2/28) and
also during this year’s upcoming Cinequest (on 3/6, 3/9, and 3/13) in San Jose.

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Doc Fortnight ’14: The Private Life of Fenfen

Evidently,
fifteen minutes will not get you very far in today’s China. Guo Lifen (familiarly
known as Fenfen) gained considerable new media-social network notoriety as the
subject of Leslie Tai’s collaborative documentaries, but the reality of her
class and circumstances remained unchanged. Her personal travails will become
grist for public consumption in Tai’s The
Private Life of Fenfen (trailer here), which screens as part of this year’s
Documentary Fortnight at MoMA.

Guo
Lifen has a lot of history with Tai. By giving her editorial control over their
previous film, Tai hoped to avoid issues of exploitation. The divorced Guo also
has considerable history with men that could be considered unambiguously
exploitative. After completing their collaboration My Name is Fenfen and her own Sister
Heaven Sister Earth, Tai gave a camera to record Guo video diary. Three
years later, Guo handed Tai over one hundred hours of tape, declaring her
dreams were now “dead.”

It
is stark stuff, including accounts of family strife, domestic abuse, and an
abortion precipitated by her lowlife fiancé’s drunken attack. Guo recounts it
all matter-of-factly, as if she were already dead on the inside. Frankly, her
testimony is quite spooky, but Tai’s presentation strategy is somewhat
debatable.

Rather
than simply edit it together, she films closed circuit broadcasts of Fenfen’s
diaries, as if it were a legit reality TV program, in the sort of greasy spoons
and hole-in-the-wall shops that cater to migrant workers such as Guo. While it
adds an uncomfortably voyeuristic dynamic to the film (particularly when we
hear some of the viewers’ unkind commentary), it also provides the constant reminder
that this is where Guo came from and this is where she will inevitably return.

Guo is still relatively young. She should be
able to make mistakes and get on with her life, but she clearly does not think
she has that option. At best, she hopes for a modest measure of peace and quiet. In its unassuming way, that is a damning
indictment of contemporary China. Well worth seeing, The Private Life of Fenfen screens this Monday (2/24) and Thursday
(2/27) as part of a double bill with Xu Huijing’s extraordinarily revealing Mothers, during MoMA’s annual
Documentary Fortnight.

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Doc Fortnight ’14: Mothers

Granted,
motherhood is an endeavor that always requires courage and conviction, but the
level exhibited by Chinese mothers resisting mandated sterilization is
something else entirely. Documentarian Xu Huijing captured the local cadres of
provincial Ma village going about their shocking business in his very personal
expose, Mothers (trailer here), which screens as
part of this year’s Documentary Fortnight at MoMA.

As
Xu explains in his brief opening narration, he would not be here today if the
Communist Party had had its way. He was a second child conceived in the fourth
year of the One Child campaign. Like his mother, Rong-rong has already had a
second child and paid a hefty fine as a result. She has also paid several
subsequent fines for not consenting to mandatory sterilization.

Zhang
Qing-mei, Ma’s “director of women’s care,” and thug-turned village deputy Zhang
Guo-hong can no longer tolerate her disobedience. They have to meet the quota
of fourteen sterilizations handed down from high. The problem is Ma is running
out of fertile women. To make matters worse, women who voluntarily request such
a procedure do not count towards the quota. Shamelessly, in full view of Xu’s
camera, Deputy Zhang will brazenly harass Rong-rong’s grandmother and direct
the local school to expel her children to put pressure on the fugitive mother.

The
manner in which the Zhangs conduct “family planning” will make most jaws drop,
but the real kicker comes when they complain about the village’s dwindling
number of marriages and children enrolled in the local school. Hello McFly,
that’s what happens when you sterilize everyone. Their village is slowly dying,
yet they double-down on the very policies so obviously responsible.

Mothers clocks in just short
of seventy minutes, but it is loaded with incendiary moments. Frankly, it
brings to mind A Handmaid’s Tale,
even including the dystopian religious fervor, courtesy of Zhang Qing-mei, who
bizarrely likens Mao Zedong to a saint and a divine emperor. The mind reels.

Recently, the Communist government has promised some
flexibility in One Child enforcement, but broad reforms still seem unlikely
(just ask the great filmmaker Zhang Yimou). In any event, the policy has already
wrought tremendous emotional damage that will reverberate for decades. You can
see it clearly in Mothers. A bold work
of cinematic journalism and a gripping human interest story, Mothers is highly recommended when it
screens Monday (2/24) and Thursday (2/27) with Leslie Tai The Private Life of Fenfen (another worthy selection) during MoMA’s
2014 Doc Fortnight.

Friday, February 21, 2014

Holy Ghost People: This is not Neil Young’s Sugar Mountain

Shouldn’t
all those snakes be on a plane somewhere? Oh, but this is the back hill
country, so these serpents have been provided for your worshipping
convenience. There will be a lot of
praising the Lord, but not enough passing of the ammo in Mitchell Altieri’s Holy Ghost People (trailer here), which releases
today in select theaters and on itunes.

Charlotte,
the recovering drug addict cocktail waitress, needs help rescuing her not-so
recovering drug addict sister from a messianic cult in the West Virginian
backwoods. After watching Mitchell, the
alcoholic Afghanistan veteran get the snot beat out of him in a bar fight, she
decides he must be the man for the job. With the help $200 in thoroughly
crumpled bills, she convinces him to escort her up Sugar Mountain to the Church
of One Accord, where Brother Billy preaches the Gospel for his cult-ish
congregation.

Brother
Billy looks a little nuts, but he has a way with words. However, he is a model
of stability compared to Smiling Bobby, who seems to aspire to be the worst
Dick Tracy villain ever. Everything about the place is seriously off, but
Charlotte still manages to talk her way into spending the night, ostensibly as
prospective new members. However, it pushes Mitchell’s nose out of joint when
everyone assumes he is Charlotte’s father. In fact, the tension between the
outsiders will grow steadily.

The
first ten minutes of HGP has a certain
degree of grit and the concluding showdown has its moments. Unfortunately, the
bulk of the film consists of vaguely sinister sounding Jesus talk and a fair
amount of snake handling. Frankly, it seems a little odd the film is still
launching today, considering the tragic and widely reported death of National
Geographic’s snake handling Pastor Jamie Coots. After all, whenever there is a
spree shooting, every film with firearms is duly postponed until the next year
the Rangers win the Stanley Cup. Of course,
there is probably a good chance you did not know a snake handling movie was
opening today until you read this review.

Regardless,
Emma Greenwell is not bad as the protagonist.
Co-writer Joe Egender has a real flair for fire-and-brimstone and chews
the scenery with appropriate relish.
Veteran TV character actor Roger Aaron Brown is also a steadying
presence as the not so nutty cult member, Brother Cole. Conversely, as Wayne, True Blood alumnus Brendan McCarthy
looks like he was dying for the film to wrap.

Some might see HGP as an attack on Evangelicals, but it is really just a bore. Basically,
it is hicksploitation that never gets adequately exploitative. There is some
okay atmosphere, but the overall experience is underwhelming. Not recommended, Holy Ghost People opens today (2/21) in
select theaters.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Doc Fortnight '14: Campaign 2

Don’t
call it a last hurrah. Kazuhiko Yamauchi, Kawasaki’s world famous city council
candidate, has decided to throw his hat in the ring again. This time, he will
forgo the indignities of electioneering, running a bare-bones campaign as a
complete independent with no party support. He will also be the only candidate adopting
an anti-nuclear position in the wake of the Fukushima crisis. The result will
be another lesson in Japanese democracy, recorded in Kazuhiro Soda’s
documentary sequel, Campaign 2, which screens
tomorrow as part of MoMA’s 2014 Documentary Fortnight.

Even
though Yama-san was successful as the LDP’s unlikely standard-bearer in the
special council election Soda followed the first time round, he soon resigned
his position, claiming frustration with the recalcitrant political system. Six
or so years later, the stay-at-home dad is giving it another go. This time he
is only spending money on the filing fee and the tightly regulated campaign
posters. Shrewdly, his closely resembles the poster for Soda’s original
documentary.

Since
he is not hiring loud-speaker cars or harassing commuters at transit hubs,
Yamauchi has a lot of time to chew the political fat with his old classmate
Soda. Frankly, in Campaign 1,
Yamauchi was cringingly obsequious, but the more experienced Yama-san has some
surprisingly acerbic commentary to offer regarding his colleagues. However, his
anti-nuclear platform is still not so well thought out, unless he is eager for
Japan to start importing massive tons of coal and fossil fuels.

Of
course, Yamauchi is still the protagonist of Campaign 2, but Soda’s focus is wider. It is clear he is as preoccupied with the ways
the 3-11 disasters have affected daily life in Japan as Yama-san, if not more
so. Perhaps even more fascinating are his interactions with the politicians who
know him from their supporting roles in Campaign
1. In fact, New Yorkers accustomed
to Chuck Schumer will be absolutely flabbergasted to see politicians who do not
want to be filmed (shocking, but true).

Arguably,
the real takeaway from Campaign 2 is
not Yama-san’s anti-nuclear platform, but the shallow nature of Japanese
political campaigns, especially at a critical post-3-11 juncture. Bizarrely, an
apparent gentlemen’s agreement still holds, largely nixing candidate debates.
Basically, they just smile and repeat their names.

At one hundred fifty minutes, Campaign 2 could stand for some pruning here
and there. However, Yamauchi’s new found wit and attitude is a nice surprise
that does not come at the expense of his lovable loser likability. Like its
predecessor, Campaign 2 is another
eccentric yet serious look under the hood of Japanese democracy. Recommended
for political junkies and Yama-san groupies, Campaign 2 screens tomorrow (2/21) and Saturday (2/22) as part of
MoMA’s Doc Fortnight, with Soda present for Q&A both days.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Almost Human: What Happens in Maine

As
an independent station way up in northern Maine, Channel 83 is not exactly the
fast track to a network career, but they know how to cover mysterious
disappearances. Thanks to an unearthly entity, they can look forward to some
salad days in Joe Begos’ throwback 1980’s style sci-fi slasher flick, Almost Human (trailer here), which releases
this Friday in Los Angeles and on VOD.

Something
in the Maine woods chased Seth Hampton to his buddy Mark Fisher’s cabin.
Initially, the outdoorsman dismisses Hampton’s panic, but it turns out the
alien force prefers the burly Fisher.
After a flash of blue light and piercing tone, Fisher is sucked out of
the house, leaving Fisher’s girlfriend Jen Craven and the guilt-ridden Hampton
behind. For a while, the police key in on Hampton as their prime suspect, a
development the confused Craven does little to discourage. However, no evidence can be found to implicate
Hampton.

Two
years later, Hampton tries to live a quiet life as the town weirdo, but he is
plagued by disturbing visions of similar horrors. We soon learn Fisher has
returned, or at least the shell of his body under alien control. As he preys on
Maine’s backwoodsmen, Hampton and Craven reconcile, hoping to find some answers
and a bit of closure. Not so fortunately, the malevolently mutated Fisher soon
comes looking for Craven.

Throughout
Almost Human, Begos deliberately goes
for a low budget retro-eighties look, much like Ti West did with House of the Devil, except even
grubbier. Frankly, it seems strange to emulate the look of 1980’s
straight-to-video horror, when it is so easy for genre fans to find the genuine
article. Still, he shows a flair for inventive gore, but the narrative is
defiantly workaday stuff.

Arguably,
the work of Graham Skipper and Josh Ethier are also a cut above those typically
found in 80’s grind ‘em outs. Skipper (whom some might recognize from the
Off-Broadway production of Re-Animator:
the Musical) is actually quite engaging as the everyman Hampton trying to
hold onto the last shred of his sanity.
Conversely, Ethier (who also doubled as editor and co-producer) is an
interesting looking heavy, whom we can sort of buy into as a hardscrabble one-man
version of Jack Sholder’s under-appreciated The
Hidden.

In a way, the consistency of Begos’ no-frills
vision is quite impressive (right down to the old school UHF news reports we
see from the fictional Channel 83), but a little goes a long way. Ultimately, Begos
just defrosts some red meat leftover from the 1980’s (admittedly a great
decade) rather than pulling together a nourishing feast. Serviceable as a midnight movie, but nothing
viewers will carry with them after the show, Almost Human opens this Friday (2/21) in Los Angeles at the Arena Cinema and next Wednesday (2/26) in New York at the IFC Center.

Sting’s Last Ship

Capital—malign
it all you want, but you’ll miss it when its gone. The Wallsend Shipyard is a
case in point. After decades of strikes and work stoppages, work stopped there for
good. Maybe the workers were supposed to inherit control of all means of
production, but they just wound up unemployed. Sting still remembers when there
were laboring jobs to be found in the northern British city and the massive
ships that towered over his boyhood home. The former Police frontman’s
childhood memories have inspired his forthcoming Broadway book musical, which
he performs as a special concert preview in Sting:
The Last Ship (promo
here), debuting
on most PBS outlets this Friday as part of the current season of Great Performances.

Since
hundred dollar-plus Broadway tickets are intended for the proletariat, Last Ship is naturally centered around
the shipyard, focusing on the angst caused by its imminent closure. To keep the
men’s spirits up, the parish priest inspires them to “occupy” the shipyard and
build themselves one last ship. Cool, then what?

As
a concert presentation, there is no acting per se in the Last Ship performed last year at the Public Theater. However,
prospective cast member Jimmy Nails is on-hand to spell Sting on the vocals. A
fixture of British television and recording charts, Nails’ casting is probably
considered something of a coup on the other side of the Atlantic. He certainly
understands the working class theatricality of Sting’s tunes. However, the greater hook for American
audiences will be back-up singer Jo Lawry, who is featured in 20 Feet from Stardom, the consensus
favorite to win best documentary at this year’s Oscars. In fact, she has a
lovely duet with Sting on “Practical Arrangement.”

The
music itself definitely has that book musical vibe, but the Northumbrian
musicians give it a distinctive Celtic-ish twist. The title tune has the right
overture quality to it, yet it sounds vaguely familiar. Likewise, “Shipyard” is
an effective role call for the cast of characters, including the overtly
Marxist union rep (and also includes another brief but appealing solo spotlight
for Lawry). Similarly, “Dead Man’s Boots”
establishes much of the show’s driving conflict, poignantly addressing the emerging
generational divide.

In
contrast, “Sky Hooks and Tartan Paint” is a bit of a novelty number in terms of
lyrics (albeit a jaunty one), but Kathyn Tickell’s violin solo is the real
deal. Arguably, the concert’s highpoint also
goes for laughs. The Rockabilly “Jock the Singing Welder” finally lets Sting
unleash his strutting inner rockstar. It is catchy as all get out and loaded
with attitude.

There
is a reason why fans will probably latch on to “Jock.” Frankly, many of us
would rather remember Sting as the shirtless villain in Dune kicking Kyle MacLachlan’s butt than as the sensitive memory
play-book musical composer. Still, there is no denying his affection and empathy
for the rough diamonds of his formative years.

Time passes on though, which is probably why
audience shots are relatively few and far between. Let’s just say it is an
older looking crowd than you would have seen in the Police’s CBGB heyday. Regardless, it is still worth hearing Sting
in an intimate setting with musicians of the caliber of Tickell and Lawry. Recommended for those who enjoy a good labor
chantey, The Last Ship premieres on
PBS’s Great Performances this Friday night
(2/21).

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Doc Fortnight ’14: ‘Til Madness Do Us Part

Perhaps
you always suspected Chinese mental hospitals were not very hospitable. If so,
your suspicions have been definitively vindicated by documentarian Wang Bing’s
nearly four hour descent into the everyday lunacy of a decrepit facility
located somewhere in the southwest provinces. Tellingly, the inmates often joke
this place will “drive you crazy.” The same might be said for viewers, but
there is no denying the weightiness and immediacy of Wang’s ‘Til Madness Do Us Part, which screens
tomorrow as part of MoMA’s 2014 Documentary Fortnight.

Yes,
some of the patients/inmates/prisoners have been committed for being politically
difficult. However, they have been mixed in with killers, hardcore schizophrenics,
and slightly loony relatives someone wanted to get out of the house. Unlike bad
old Soviet psychotherapy, the doctors are not constantly poking and prodding
the patients. In fact, staff members are rarely seen throughout the course of a
day. Think Lord of the Flies instead
of 1984. Frankly, it is like Bedlam
in there.

Throughout
most of the film, Wang and his fellow cameraman Liu Xianhui are confined to the
top men’s floor of the facility. The
layout not so coincidently resembles a prison, with a central corridor
overlooking the interior courtyard.
Viewers will become quite familiar with this fenced in passageway,
because Wang and Liu will pursue many a disturbed patient as they go tearing around
and around it.

Obviously,
there are many issues with this sanatorium, starting first and foremost with
the conspicuous lack of resources. The level of care is also problematic,
mainly consisting of the daily dispensing of happy pills, at least as far as
viewers can tell. There is even a mute inmate whose identity remains a mystery
to staff and patients alike. Right, what are the chances he will be cured of
what troubles him?

Given
the 228 minute running time, Wang can hardly be accused of selective editing. Madness is an immersive experience more
than a muckraking expose. Yet, the micro and macro implications are
inescapable. Nobody would want to be there. Yet, Wang still finds pockets of
humanity in the bleakness, such as the man who has somehow commenced a romantic
relationship with a woman confined to a lower floor, mostly through stolen
conversations through barred doors and the like.

Everything about Madness will intimidate casual audiences, with good reason.
Frankly, the best way to see it is probably as a reviewer, because we are able
to break it down into manageable pieces. Nevertheless, Wang is arguably the
leading Chinese documentary filmmaker of our day. Anyone who seriously follows
independent Chinese cinema will want to keep up with latest. While not nearly
as emotionally involving as his heartbreaking Three Sisters or the draining Fengming: a Chinese Memoir, it still has plenty of sobering moments. Recommended for
stout-hearted cineastes, ‘Til Madness Do
Us Part screens tomorrow (2/19), in all its 228 minute glory, as part of
this year’s Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Dolmen: Getting Blood from a Druid Stone

It
must be one of those island prejudices. They do not think much of cops on Ty
Kern, even when one of them is Marie Kermeur, the belle of the isle. She has
returned home from Brest to marry her childhood sweetheart, but when dead
family members start piling up, she insists on getting all detectivey in the
six-part French miniseries Dolmen,
which is now available on DVD from MHz Network.

The
Kersaint and Le Bihan families are like the Montagues and Capulets of Ty Kern.
The Kermeurs are civil with both, but you would not say they are close. Something
happened way back when that tied the island families together. Everyone seems
to know about it, except Marie, le flic. Her family is delighted to have her
back on Ty Kern for her wedding to racing skipper Christian Bréhat, but they
are just as eager to see her on her way. However, when her brother Gildas has a
fatal misadventure near the island’s druid stone circle, Kermeur smells a rat.

Indeed,
the circumstances surrounding his death are quite suspicious. For instance, one
of the menhir stones starts bleeding his blood shortly after the murder (as
foul play is soon established). Kermeur is also slightly agitated by her
nightmare that sort of presaged his death. Initially, Kermeur is pulled from
the case, for obvious reasons. Of
course, she quickly insinuates her way back into the investigation, because
none of the locals will talk to Maj. Lucas Fersen, the hotshot officer
dispatched from Brest.

In
terms of tone, Dolmen is something of
a throwback to the if-I-had-only-known novels of Mary Roberts Rinehart.
Frankly, the series’ willingness to kill off Kermeurs is quite impressive, a
bit like Game of Thrones in that
limited respect. There is no getting around the melodrama of a bride-to-be
mourning a brother and learning no end of deep dark family secrets. Still,
series writers Nicole Jamet and Marie-Anne Le Pezennec make the most of the
eerie Breton locales, incorporating supernatural legends and purported cult
activity into the mix. In fact, for most of the series, it is an open question
whether the happenings really are of an occult nature or whether there will be
a tidy Scooby-Doo explanation for it all.

Teenage
boys should keep in mind Dolmen is
the product of French television, because Marie Kermeur is the sort of cop who
can give men interrogation fantasies. Popular TV star Ingrid Chauvin truly has
supermodel looks and soap opera thesp chops, but Dolmen arguably plays to her strengths in both respects. She also works
out some decent chemistry with Bruno Madiner’s Festen, who steadily grows on
viewers as he sheds his by-the-book stiffness.

Like
a Twin Peaks off the Brittany coast, Dolmen is chocked full of colorfully cranky
supporting characters, but by far the most intriguing is Patrick Ryan, an Irish
mystery novelist and expert in Celtic lore, played with flair and gravity by
Yves Rénier. French cinema connoisseurs will also be surprised to see Hippolyte
Girardot appears as the churlish Kersaint heir apparent, but does not get his
name in the opening credits. In fact, he is totally on the money as the
resentful Pierre-Marie, but his character is not given much to do besides
glower and sulk until episodes five and six. Likewise, Nicole Croiselle makes a
great villain as Yvonne Le Bihan, somewhat looking and sounding like Cloris
Leachman in Young Frankenstein, but always
playing it scrupulously straight. On the downside, Chick Ortega’s portrayal of
the developmentally disabled Pierric Le Bihan is pretty darn cringey.

Dolmen
has enough mystery, intrigue, and windswept
longing to seduce even the snobbiest viewers. Technically, there is even a
ripped bodice, which is appropriate considering the series’ romantic mass
market appeal. It is definitely really fun stuff (tailor made for binge
viewing), like a slightly more gothic and popcorn-ish Broadchurch, with way more attractive leads. Recommended for those
who enjoy French scandal, Dolmen is now
available on DVD from MHz Networks.

Monday, February 17, 2014

SF Indie Fest ’14: Karaoke Girl

Before
New York’s disgraced former congressmen and governors embark on their next vice
tour of Thailand, they ought to give some thought to the women working in
Bangkok’s redlight district. Sa is one of them, but the extent of her nightclub
work is kept somewhat ambiguous in Visra Vichit-Vadakan’s docu-fiction hybid Karaoke Girl (trailer here), which screens
during the 2014 San Francisco Indie Fest.

Sa
Sittijun essentially plays herself, a pure-hearted country girl, who came to
the city to provide for her family. Initially, she really did work in a
factory, but when it closed she was forced to take a hostess job in a karaoke
bar. Of course, her family still thinks she is cracking eggs on the assembly
line. It is probably more tiring work at the club, requiring constant
maintenance. Due to the late hours, Sa also often has close contact with dodgy
sorts. In fact, crime is a very real occupational hazard.

Despite
all the hardships she endures, Sa gives alms with great frequency. She also
sends money home quite regularly and returns periodically to drag her ailing
father to the doctor. In short, she
deserves better than the lot she drew in life, most definitely including her
unreliable lover, Ton. One can only hope the Thai release for Karaoke and its success on the
international film festival circuit will lead to better things for Sittijun.

Clearly,
Vichit-Vadakan had up close and personal access to Sittijun’s life (or at least
a revealing approximation of it). Yet, since she mostly avoids the lurid
aspects of the redlight business, it does not feel as intrusive as it might.
Instead, we come to understand “bar girls” must spend time on their laundry and
pursue problematic relationships, just like everyone else.

Frankly,
Karaoke is the sort of visually
arresting docu-straddler These Birds Walkwas supposed to be, but fell short of. For one thing, Sa is a far more
engaging (and even sympathetic) focal character. Also, the rural backdrops and
nocturnal city scenes are considerably more striking than Birds’ visuals. Great credit is due to co-cinematographers Chananum
Chotrungroj and the American executive producer, Sandi Sissel (whose credits
also include Salam Bombay) for
maintaining an intimate focus on Sa, but still capturing a powerful sense of
place.

No
matter how much of her actual life is reflected on screen, Sittijun expresses a
whole lot of emotional truth. Quiet but powerful, with a surprisingly spiritual
dimension, Karaoke Girl is
recommended for all those concerned with the condition of working women (broadly
defined) in the developing world. It screens at the New Parkway Theater (in
Oakland) this Thursday (2/20) as part of this year’s SF Indie Fest.

Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises: This Year’s Worthiest Oscar Nominee

Jiro
Horikoshi is a Studio Ghibli character Tony Stark would approve of. He was the engineer responsible for designing
Imperial Japan’s Model Zero fighters, but he dreamer rather than an
ideologue. At least, that is how Hayao
Miyazaki re-imagined Horikoshi’s private persona in his fictionalized manga,
which he has now adapted as his reported final film as a director. Spanning decades of Japan’s tumultuous
pre-war history, it is also a deeply personal film that was justly nominated
for best animated feature. After brief festival appearances, Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises (trailer here), opens for real
this Friday in New York.

As
a young student, Horikoshi yearns to fly, but he realizes his spectacles make
it nearly impossible for him to become a pilot.
Borrowing an aviation magazine from an encouraging teacher opens up a
new path for the earnest lad. Through
its pages he learns of Italian aircraft designer Gianni Caproni, who becomes
his inspiration. Setting his sights on
an engineering career, Horikoshi regularly meets Caproni in his dreams and
reveries, where they share their mutual passion for flight.

Circumstances
of history will conspire to make Horikoshi’s life eventful. His first day as a university student is
marked by the catastrophic earthquake of 1923, which will resonate profoundly
with contemporary viewers mindful of Fukushima.
Yet, out of that tragedy, Hirokoshi meets and temporarily loses the
great love of his life.

Despite
his intelligence, Japan’s stagnant economy offers few opportunities for
Horikoshi when he graduates. He joins
Mitsubishi at a time when the company appears to be on its last legs. Gambling
its future on military contracts, the company sends Horikoshi to Germany,
hoping he can help them reverse-engineer whatever the Junkers will let them
see. Of course, he will be able to raise
the company’s game substantially.

In
no way, shape, or manner does Miyazaki justify Japan’s militarist era, but he
has still taken flak from both sides of the divide over Wind. Frankly, it presents a
gentle but firm critique of the Imperial war machine. At one point, Horikoshi is even forced into
hiding, designing the military’s fighter planes while he evades the
government’s thought police. Indeed,
such is a common experience for the best and the brightest living under
oppressive regimes. Yet, Miyazaki is
just as interested in Horikoshi’s grandly tragic romance with Naoko, a
beautiful artist sadly suffering from tuberculosis. Horikoshi makes a number of difficult choices
throughout the film, every one of which the audience can well understand.

Given
its elegiac vibe, Wind makes a
fitting summation film for Miyazaki.
Covering the immediate pre-war decades, it compliments and engages in a
wistful dialogue with Gorō Miyazaki’s charming post-war coming of age tale From Up on Poppy Hill (co-written by the
elder Miyazaki). One can also see and
hear echoes of master filmmakers past, such as Ozu and Fellini, throughout the
film. Any cinema scholar surveying
Miyazaki’s work will have to deal with it at length, but it still happens to be
a genuinely touching film.

After watching Wind, viewers will hope the real Horikoshi was a lot like
Miyazaki’s (and the same goes for Caproni). Miyazaki seriously examines the
dilemmas faced by his protagonist while telling a lyrical love story. Visually, the quality of Studio Ghibli’s
animation remains undiminished, but the clean lines of Horikoshi’s planes and
the blue open skies lend themselves to simpler images than some of his richly
detailed classics. Regardless, The Wind Rises is an unusually
accomplished film that transcends the animation genre. Highly recommended for all ages and
interests, it opens this Friday (2/21) in New York at the Landmark Sunshine, in
dubbed and the infinitely preferable subtitled versions.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Tribute to Donald Richie: After Life

Eventual
all film critics will go to the great screening room in the sky. According to Hirokazu
Kore-eda, there really will be screenings for those who have shuffled off their
mortal coils. Whether or not it takes place among fluffy clouds hardly matters.
It is really about the process of taking stock of the lives the recently
deceased led and choosing the best part to hold onto for the rest of
whatever. Fittingly, Kore-eda’s modern
classic After Life (trailer here)screens on the one year anniversary of
Donald Richie’s death, as part of the Japan Society’s tribute to the highly
influential film scholar, who indeed championed Kore-eda at a crucial point of
his career.

When
you die during earthly winter, you will find it is still winter when you arrive
at After Life’s processing center,
which is a shame, because the cherry blossoms are lovely there during the
spring. Regardless, recently departed souls will only spend one week
there. Counselors Takashi Mochizuki and
Satoru Kawashima will help them chose the one memory they wish to retain and oversee
its production on film. At the end of the week, everyone will gather for the
screening of their group’s memories and then continue on their cosmic ways with
their sole designated memory preserved.

At
least that is how it is supposed to work. Some souls cannot or will not
choose. They are known as difficult
cases. Several are on the docket this
week. However, Mochizuki and his trainee Shiori Satonaka cannot judge them too
harshly. They too were unable to chose,
which is how they came to be employed at the celestial halfway house.
Presumably their earthly lives were somewhat disappointing, but Kore-eda will
only reveal so much—that is until a chance connection sneaks up on everyone.

The
spiritual element of After Life might
sound out of place in Kore-eda’s work, considering his reputation for gently mining
the terrain of family dysfunction and drama, in the tradition of Ozu. Yet, his
subsequent films, like Still Walkingand
I Wish are very much about observing
those small but tellingly significant moments the souls in After Life struggle to remember. In a sense, it is like a summation
film that came early in his career.

Of
course, there are no floating clouds in After
Life (well, actually there are, but they are merely special effects for one
of the memory films. Kore-eda deliberately keeps everything low-fi and low key
to emphasize the basic humanity of the characters and the memories that
mattered to them. For added realism, many of the sessions involve real people
relating their own memories. They are
often quite moving, especially those of an elderly lady, who still fondly remembers
dancing for her doting brother as young girl. Yet, perhaps the most powerful element
of the film is the sad and touching way the pseudo-romantic relationship
between Mochizuki and Satonaka never comes together.

In
his first big screen role, Arata (Iura) is quite impressive slowly establishing
Mochizuki’s angst and regrets. It is a role that gets progressively trickier with
each reveal. Likewise, Erika Oda is extraordinarily moving as Satonaka. The way
their performances evolve and deepen is also a tribute to Kore-eda’s firm but
nearly invisible directorial hand. Indeed, he shows a knack for dispensing
necessary information in a way that is unobtrusively organic.

There is no cheap melodrama in After Life. Kore-eda does not set out to play on viewers’
emotions. Yet, by treating his characters’ afterlives with such respect and
gravity, he lowers a mighty boom in third act.
Highly recommended, Kore-eda’s After
Life perfectly concludes the first part of the Japan Society’s tribute to
Donald Richie when it screens this Wednesday (2/19) in New York.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Martin Scorsese Presents: To Kill This Love

Can
a rotten political system corrupt the youth? It certainly will not do Magda and
Andrzej any favors. The two attractive
lovers should have a bright future ahead of them, but there is no space for
either of them in Communist Poland’s universities. The critical strategies of
Socialist Realism are turned back on the Socialist state in Janusz Morgenstern’s
To Kill This Love, which screens tonight
as a handpicked selection of Martin Scorsese Presents: Masterpieces of Polish Cinema, hosted by the Film
Society of Lincoln Center.

It
was always Magda’s ambition to be a doctor, but it appears she will have to
settle for being an orderly. Andrzej never had a calling per se, nor does he
have a job of any sort. He would seem to have a future of manual labor to look
forward to (if he is lucky), but Andrzej is not the settling type. Hoping to
move into their own place, Magda and Andrzej will scrimp as best they can and
put the arm on their problematic parents. However, Andrzej will take short cuts
that could poison their relationship.

In
a way, Magda and Andrzej are the Polish Jack and Diane—two kids growing up the
best that they can. It will not work out. Like a good Socialist Realist,
Morgenstern is not exactly subtle in his approach. Frankly, it is a small miracle To Kill did not give some poor
apparatchik a cerebral hemorrhage. The
contrast between the grim prospects faced by Polish young people tossed aside
by the state’s educational system and the constant reports of Neil Armstrong’s
moon landing (a pinnacle of Yankee scientific achievement) is hard to miss.

Perhaps
even more heavy-handed are the more impressionistic interludes featuring a
corrupt night watchman (who fences the goods he is supposed to protect) and his
faithful-to-a-fault canine companion. When he chooses graft over love an entire
class of petty Party hacks stand indicted.

Every
frame of To Kill screams 1972, in
both good and bad ways. One can readily detect the influence of the youth
culture and the tripped out psychedelic cinema of the age, as well as old
school proletarian social drama. Maybe
Andrzej Malec’s namesake would have been considered a catch at the time, but
his charms have not aged well. While it is hard to fault his mercurial
performance, the character’s dubious motivations and self-destructive
tendencies are a quite a load to labor under. In contrast, Jadwiga
Jankowska-Cieslak brings an innocent yet passionate presence, like an early
(straighter) forerunner to Adèle Exarchopoulos in Blue is the Warmest Color.

To
Kill is clearly a product
of its time. For an intimate story of an affair on the outs, it ranges pretty
far and wide. Still, despite its stylistic eccentricities, it retains
considerable bite. Recommended for dedicated connoisseurs of Polish cinema, To Kill this Love screens tonight (2/15)
at the Walter Reade, as part of the Martin
Scorsese Presents: Masterpieces of Polish Cinema, which will continue on its
thirty city North American tour following it New York run.

J.B. Spins

About Me

J.B. (Joe Bendel) works in the book publishing industry, and also teaches jazz survey courses at NYU's School of Continuing and Professional Studies. He has written jazz articles for publications which would be appalled by his political affiliation. He also coordinated instrument donations for displaced musicians on a volunteer basis for the Jazz Foundation of America during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Send e-mail to: jb.feedback "at" yahoo "dot" com.